Glass
by xoxAmyxox
Summary: I break easily Mac/Stella Mac/Peyton Stella POV one shot


Glass

Glass

Disclaimer: CSI:NY does not belong to me

Stella POV

Him.Her. Them. Together. My mind was throwing single words at me and as I found myself unable to move. _It was a bad idea having glass windows in the office, too revealing _I thought. I'd never seen him look so happy. How long had he known Payton? I've known him since forever and he's never looked at me like that.

He says I'm the bestest friend he's ever had. It's difficult for Mac to make friends so I'd be making safe assumptions that I'm probably his only friend. Oh, what I'd give, to make him notice me for more than what I am. I love him more than anyone else could, I know him better than anyone else…don't I? Who was it that held him in the night as he sobbed after Claire's death? Who held his hand at Claire's memorial service and told him everything would be alright?

The case file in my hand which was my reason for paying Mac a visit in the first place was forgotten and as my body became numb with a mixture of shock and jealousy the folder slipped from my fingers sending the loose sheets of paper flying in all direction. I bent down to gather them up, knowing it was going to take hours to sort it all out. It was then they chose to leave the comfort zone of his office. I tried to pick everything up as quickly as I could, trying to hide my tears and fustration.

"Are you alright Stella?" he asks bending down to my level to help me pick up the papers, I snatch them out of his hands,

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm just clumsey…as always, clumsey old Stella" I say trying to make the situation sound like a joke…it really isn't, I hear Peyton pipe up from behind Mac.

"Don't worry Stella, It's not like you've cut your self on a piece of glass like last time" she sneered. I've tried to like her, for Mac's sake but she's just always had it in for me, I don't know why. Perhaps she knows I'm in love with my boss?

"Yeah, thank goodness" I reply sarcastically.

"Mac, honey we've got a reservation for 7" she says her voice dripping with poison, luring him in. He looks at me apologetically and gets up handing me the last of the papers.

"Look, I've got to go, leave that file on my desk and I'll check it in the morning. Bye Stella, have a good evening" he says walking off with Peyton arm in arm.

I stand up and stretch my aching back.

"Yep, a splendid evening it's going to be, just me and a tub of ice-cream again" to myself. I'm not sure how long I can go on for like this. It's killing me being so deeply in love with someone but knowing that I could never be with them just breaks my heart.

I dump the folder on his desk and hastily make my exit from the crime lab. I don't want to be anywhere that reminds me of him right now. As I'm driving back to my apartment I get a strange sense of obligation. Instead of going home, I turn around and head to the nearest flourist. I choose an array of brightly coloured flowers and pay for them with the cash I was going to use for mine and Mac's coffee trip this morning, but he cancelled. I set the flowers down on the passenger seat and drive to the Cemetary and visit the only person who I know will understand.

I lay the flowers on Claire's grave and remember her last conversation with me which haunts me to this day.

"_I don't think he's interested in my anymore" Claire says nursing a cup of coffee._

"_Don't be silly, he adores you" I say leaping to his defense._

"_He's never home, you know that just as well as I do. Do you think he hates me because I said I wanted to leave it a few years before we started a family?" Claire asks me on the verge of tears._

"_He doesn't hate you. You know what Mac's like when he doesn't get his own way. He'll come around, you'll see" I promise her._

"_Thank you Stella, I know we can both rely on you, you're a good friend" _

That was three weeks before her death. I kneel before her grave and whisper to her hoping she can hear me.

"What shall I do, Claire? Peyton is changing him and I don't know how to stop it" I say, not feeling at all stupid as one might expect. I jump out of my skin, not expecting a reply.

"Man troubles my dear?" an old woman says balancing herself with her walking stick. Not expecting an answer, my shock takes a while to settle.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you" the woman laughs. She sits down on the bench near by the grave stones.

"No, it's ok, I didn't no anyone else was here" I say.

"It's a strange time to be out here, it's close to closing time" the old woman says, she pats the space next to her on the bench. "Sit here, do you want to talk about it, sounds like you do" I didn't know what it was about this woman but I trusted her for some reason which I couldn't detect. I take up her offer and sit next to her.

"My friend, his wife died" I say motioning to the grave infront of us, "She was my friend and she always wanted me to look after him if there came a time when she was gone"

"She died in 9-11, see, and I kept my promise, I looked after him. During that time, I…I…" I find myself unable to continue, is it really that hard for me to admit it to someone, even a stranger?

"You've fallen in love with him yourself haven't you dear?" the woman says, her tone of voice sounds as if she's been in the same situation herself.

"Yes" I blurt out in almost a half sob. "But there's someone else and she doesn't like me because of the friendship I have with him and we never seem to talk like we used to or go out like we used to because he's taking her to see a movie or cooking her a meal. I'm jealous I know, but someone like her will just hurt him, I know it!" I say the woman looks at me sympathetically.

"You just want what's best for him, my dear. You've obviously got a close bond with this man. It's only natuaral for you to feel like this, feel…re…"

"Replaced?" I finish her sentence, how did I manage to do that. She nods in agreement.

"Don't give up, and if she does hurt him, you'll be there for him and he'll eventually see who he truly belongs with" the woman says wisely.

"Do you want to get a coffee or something?" I ask, I realise I don't even know this woman's name.

"That would be lovely young lady, don't get taken out very often in my old age, my husband died a few years back now and all my children live out of the city" the woman says stuggling to get up. I help her get up and we stroll along the path out of the cemetary.

"So what do young woman like you do for a living these days?" she asks me.

"I work for NYPD, I'm a crime scene investigator" I say, the woman laughs.

"Sounds like you should be a detective or something" She says, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, I am, Detective Stella Bonasera, that's me" I say, trying to avoid sounding too proud of myself.

"And, who is this man you speak of?" the woman asks, in a minute I will get around to asking her name.

"Mac Taylor" I say,

"Oooh, I've seen his name in the paper, top dog?" she asks, I laugh at her use of expression.

"He's my boss" I reply.

"Office romance?" she asks,

"Not with me" I say. "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name?" I ask

"My name is Cathy Lovett, my dear"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I return home in a much better mood after having a long chat with Cathy Lovett and when I get home I go straight to bed, promising myself I won't let things bury me tomorrow.

The next few weeks are strange, I do my job as normal but that seems to be about it. It's only when I don't spend time with Mac that realise how bigger part of my life he actually is. I find myself in the same position I was in a few weeks ago when I first saw them in a passionate embrace. I expect him to be there as I approach office. He hasn't been home I don't think more than once since he got back from his trip to London with her, the whole idea of his 333 stalker is starting to cloud his mind with fear and that's not something so see very often with Mac Taylor. I dump a file on his desk (I seem to do that a lot these days, he never seems to be around) but the heaviness of the file causes a light piece of paper to flutter to the ground. I pick it up but when I see the english post mark and neat, black ink handwritting I'm drawn in by this small letter.

She dumped him in a letter? How shallow can you get? He's going to be devestated I think to myself but half of me is not surprised, I always said this would happen. It was a Wednesday, he always plays bass in his bass at that club on 34th street on Wednesday. He's obviously had the same sort of day I've had so I'll attempt to buy him a drink.

When I walk into the club, I can hear his band playing a song that's been in my head for a few days and I adore it. I perch on the stool and wait for him to notice that I'm there. He's so focused in his music just like everything else he does it makes me fall in love with him over again.

But maybe we're just not meant to be together. I don't think I can stand the pain of watching him go through another failed relationship. Maybe I should get one of my own. But I'd be betraying the guy I was dating because my heart would never be one hundred percent committed to him.

My heart will always belong to Mac. My heart is made of glass and I brake easily…maybe it's just not worth the pain of being shattered.

I focus on his eyes even though he is far away and notice that they are shady, he is in pain, maybe I can heal him.

Maybe theres hope yet for this heart of glass.


End file.
